Out of the Blue
by Thunderrstruck
Summary: Sherlock always needs something to entertain his mind with, as constantly working on cases does that to someone. When a mysterious blue box shows up within view of the flat... well, this cetain consulting detective can never leave a mystery untouched.


**This is my first ever fic, so read on and enjoy. After this, it can only get better, right? XD**

The violin's melody took up most of the space in 221B leaving just enough room to think. Having received a troubling case a few days prior, John Watson was on his laptop blogging while Sherlock was fiddling with his violin to help him think, staring out blindly into the night.

Slowly, Sherlock noticed a muffled wheezing sound and a faint light pulsing coming from the street below. He stared at the street just as a small, blue box materialized from thin air. The consulting detective frowned. What was a police box from the 1960s doing in modern-day London? Intrigued, he pulled on his coat and tightened his scarf, flying down the stairs. John looked up as his friend whizzed by.

"Sherlock, what—" he began.

"Later! I'm busy!" Sherlock hissed and continued running. Once outside, he stopped in front of the door to the flat. The blue box was now fully on the street. Sherlock slowly took the remaining steps to reach it and held out his hand, running it down the painted wood. He grasped the cool, silver handle and pushed at the doo. To Sherlock's surprisement, the door obeyed to his movement. Sherlock took one step inside, two steps, when he noticed the man. The man was leaning against the center structure. He wore a bow-tie, brown jacket, and a goofy smile.

"Welcome to the TARDIS," he greeted. Sherlock—who was busy taking in the large dome, the orange-y light, the impossibility of it all—frowned at the man.

"The TARDIS?" he scoffed. The man smirked.

"Time. And. Relative. Dimension. In. Space," he answered. "So, where do you want to go?"

"What do you mean by 'where do you want to go'? I only just bloody met you!"

"And yet you can travel anywhere in the universe." The mysterious man stood and came down the steps from the raised platform. "What do you say?"

"This is a time machine?" Sherlock scanned the perimeter again. The madman gave out a quick laugh and jogged back up the stairs to the center-hexagon thing. This time, Sherlock followed. He was caught in this mystery and he could never get pulled out of it. "This is impossible!"

"Yup, heard that one before!" The time-traveling man moved forward after shutting the door.

Even after scanning the room twice before, Sherlock found himself trying to take in all the surroundings again. He backed up towards the door, stopping three feet away from it. He wrenched it open and flung himself out. The TARDIS was back to being a blue box again and Sherlock ran to the back. It was still small, rectangular, and blue: nothing like the orange glowing dome he had seen inside. Sherlock ran back to the front to see the man leaning casually against the door frame.

"I'll show you how it works." The man turned abruptly around and walked back to the controls. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock plunged into the bigger-on-the-inside box and shut the door on Baker Street, not looking back. He followed this strange man to center and stood there for a moment, asking,

"I don't remember getting your name. Who are you?"

The man looked sideways at the consulting detective. "Thought you'd never ask. I'm the Doctor, a nine-hundred-year-old Timelord from Gallifrey! And you just won an all-expenses-paid trip to the universe!"

John was starting to become curious at Sherlock's long disappearance. He shut his laptop, placing it on the desk before him, and looked out the window just in time to see Sherlock stumbled out of a blue box and a strange man, in a brown coat with tousled brown hair, lean casually against the doorframe. Sherlock got up from the pavement and looked at the man. Then, he went into the blue box and shut the door.

With the same wheezing sound as before, the box began to disappear. The blue faded until it was a pulsing ghostly image of the box a moment prior. That thing—and that weird man—were disappearing. And Sherlock was inside. John sprinted down the stairs, not bothering to grab his coat, and burst through the door in time to see the box fade away along with that strange, eerie noise.

"Sherlock!" he shouted, hoping his friend would somehow hear it.


End file.
